Resolution
by CMW2
Summary: DEDICATED TO SYNNOVE:The Marshall Goes Apeshit Fic lives!;Angsty M&M abounds but there will be a happy ending,I swear;Rated for sailor like language and hot spice later;SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3;10th in my 2011 SSS Project. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Happy May 1st, y'all. I am a woman of my word. I promised a Marshall Goes Apeshit fic and I'm giving it to you. I've had this in reserve since the summer and with a little encouragement from Synnove and my string of Post Finale fics, I think I've finally got something tangible, which is good because I'm not too sure about this one, folks.**

**Don't get me wrong, I've always loved it when Marshall loses control on the show and in fics but when I try, he remains completely OOC, even at the end. I don't like putting the characters through hell, especially emotionally but that whole fucking Faber thing… anyway, insecurities aside, I'm so looking forward to writing this (because Marshall most definitely deserves to go off) and after all of the angsty yelling (and long overdue honesty), there will be M&M of my usual caliber. And Faber…well read on. And not everything is as it seems in this chapter...you'll know when you read it.  
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**MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 3 FINALE. If you've been under a rock and haven't seen it or afraid to see it because of all the backlash, you're going to be one unhappy camper with me. But, tonight is the night, people! Finally!  
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**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

He knew that he looked like he would blow up the plane instead of merely using it but a flash of his US Marshal's badge put an end to any prying questions anyone wanted to ask as he stalked through the airport to his departure gate, his suitcase barely closed.

Marshall Mann was up at 2:13AM in his Monty Python pajamas ('Tis only a flesh wound on the shirt and bleeding Black Knights on the pants), sandals, hair uncombed and tangled like he'd been in a wind tunnel, unshaved, and a distinct, primal black rage in his normally soft baby blues. He was a man on a mission and no one was going to stop him from going to Cancun and Mary Shannon.

He was absolutely infuriated with her and this time, there would be no trip to the shooting range or Star Wars marathon or even his oragami to soothe it away. Oh, no. This time, the exotic animal would know that her keeper was displeased and they were going to have it out.

Why, you ask? Why would he break his 7 year old pattern of patience and tolerance of Mary Shannon's hurtful actions towards him and the rest of humanity? What had changed? What happened?

_**Mike…fucking…Faber**_. Mike fucking Faber had been his boiling and breaking point. Mary fucking Mike fucking Faber less than 12 hours after Marshall had so obviously (and honestly, somewhat pathetically) put his heart on the line was the end of any benevolence he had towards the woman. She was either going to stop running from their connection or he was leaving. It was as simple as that.

Although he loved her fiercely and would do anything, legal or otherwise for her, Marshall would no longer be her emotional whipping boy and Jiminy Cricket and if she wanted to self destruct, then she could. And... _**Faber!**_ Of all people she could've picked to scratch her latest cowardly itch….she had picked Faber! Jesus, _**Raphael **_would've been better! At least, she had a past with the man and he wasn't nearly as much of an asshole as Faber. Although, Marshall was pretty certain that no one on any planet, in any reality was as much of an asshole as the FBI D-Bag…

Less than an hour ago, he had gotten a call from the smarmy FBI agent, gloating about where he was with his Kitten. How he had "fucked her sweet little pussy" on every surface of the hotel room and on the beach. How he had made her scream and beg him for more. How soft her hair was and how good she tasted. How he had to thank him for not making a move because he was "definitely going to be around for a long time."

Fuck, no. Hell fucking no. Not if Marshall had anything to say about it. Even if he couldn't find Mary, he was going to find Faber and break every bone in his body for taking advantage of her vulnerability.

The last year (hell, the last 2 years) had been heinous towards her. She had been kidnapped, nearly raped, accused of drug running, she found about Lauren and Scott and every other prodigal son that her sleaze father had left in a bassinet. Raph had left her….all of these things alone sucked but combined…underneath all of that brave badassery, Mary was hurting and hurting bad.

And Faber had capitalized on that. Marshall knew how "men" like that worked. He had seen it all the time as a child with his dad. While Seth never touched another woman, he did undermine people by acting like he was just what they needed and then after getting what he wanted from them, leaving like the Baltimore Colts. Mary couldn't take much more battering…

_**And yet, you're going after her to bitch her out. You sure that's wise, Mann?**_, his inner voice pointed out.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face as he slumped into his seat, feeling the plane get off of the ground smoothly...

_After everything she's done to me, it's going to have to **be** wise because I can't take this anymore. I can't go on with all these feelings bottled up inside me and if I have to be a complete dick to achieve some form of closure, then I will. Besides, it's not like she hasn't done it to me before._

…_**true. And you've spent the money, packed the bag, and scared the living shit out of Stan demanding to leave so you're going to **_**have**_** to do this unholy thing. I just hope you know what you're really getting us into here, Marshall. Some of the answers you get out of her may not be what you want to hear…**_

Well, it was a risk that he was just going to have to take.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **_**Holy crap, Bin Laden's dead!**_** I can't believe it (I thought I'd be at least in my 30s when it happened) but I'm glad. I really, freakin' am. One less psychopath to hurt people in the world is **_**always **_**good in my eyes….**

**THE FIC: Like I said to BuJyo last chapter, if I got pissed off enough at the premiere, there'd be a second chapter up within 24 hours. The majority of the rest of this A/N should be skipped if you haven't seen tonight's eppy yet. Fair spoiler warning and all that good stuff…**

**THE PREMIERE (Scroll to skip if you want): **_**Holy…shit.**_** That pretty much sums up what I've just seen. Okay, off the bat, Abigail can go die in a fire because she's interfering with my M&M (other than that, I actually like her, sans the obnoxious voice) but I _hate_ how Marshall is just so…so…**_**matter of fact **_**about what happened in THE SCENE! I mean, there was some great subtext and a couple of "Bitch, **_**please**_**!" looks that I loved (especially when Mary was going ham on him for the Country Bumpkin Copper) but…man,**_** Resolution**_** is needed now more than ever! To hell with OOC concerns, we need some motherfuckin' justice up in this bitch! ****¿**_**Qué **__**carajo**_**, ****Marshall****? I mean, there's a fine line between tolerance and doormat and honey, you've finally crossed it. Come **_**on**_**, bro…**

**On the other hand, if he puts his hands on that damn placeholder copper, maybe that'll be Mary's wake up bitch slap. Said bitch slap will probably happen this season. I hope so. I mean, with Brandi and Peter getting settled (yay, marriage…his parents suck!), Jinx sober (SHOCKER!), Stan manning up (like a BOSS), that disturbing new chick (did they **_**have **_**to make her a sister?) shaking things up, and her Cowboy no longer just hers, Mary's eyes are gonna be opened in more ways than one. It's already begun…**

**THE FIC: Anyway, here's Chapter 2 and like I said before, not everything is as it seems. Keep the faith, ladies (and gentlemen? **_**Are**_ **there men on FFN?) and hold onto your hats. **

**Shit's about to get real.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

She walked on the beach, quiet and empty in the Dark o' Clock in the Morning hours. After leaving a passed out Faber on the floor and taking a loofah sponge to every centimeter of skin, she tried to sleep on changed sheets. She had failed miserably.

Not for the first time, Mary Shannon had guilt induced insomnia and it was far from misplaced.

"_You've __**done**__ the cowboy. And when you weren't __**doing**__ the cowboy, you __**were**__ the cowboy, like with Raph. You don't need to let off steam, what you need is— I get that you don't like messy, but __**maybe messy is what you need**__. Maybe instead of just anyone you should be looking for __**someone**__. Someone who __**challenges**__ you, who calls you on your BS and gets in your face and makes you __**think**__…"_

Bile rose in the back of her throat as her partner's words broke through her forced haze of margaritas and Faber…god, _**Faber!**_ Of all people to call, why had she picked _**him**_? Obviously, Raph was out, what with the normal, brunette fiancée but even offering herself up to him again would have been somewhat acceptable...

Offering herself up to Marshall would've been perfect. He would've been just what she needed. He would've offered stability and genuine care. Her vacation would have probably spent in his bed, exploring and tasting and just being with him. Being with him like she should have from the start…

But, she had run away. She had run far, far away and had called Faber to meet her here at this resort. She had put on that damned red dress and flirted inappropriately with the barely legal attendants and fucked Faber like a dirty bitch in heat. Never mind that he was an asshole. Never mind that he was married, a fact that she had only discovered by fishing the ring out of his back pocket… never mind that he wasn't the tall, blue-eyed man who so obviously adored her. No, Mary Shannon had to be her usual stupid, self destructive self and hook up with Faber. Thank God she had sprung for one of those 5 year implants and had forced Faber to bring condoms.

The last thing she needed was to add a child into the steaming pile of mess. Marshall would **_never_** forgive her, then…

_**What makes you so sure that he will at all? How do you know that he won't give up on your sorry self and go find someone so different from you, so perfect that he'll never look back? How do you know that he won't pick one of those "secret" envelopes full of kickass job offers and leave and hurt you just like you've done to him over and over and over again? A human can only take so much before they break, Mary. You ought to know. All you **_**do**_** is break people, even the ones that you **_**claim**_** to care about…**_, her inner voice condemned caustically, making a silent tear drop down to the wet sand.

At first, her ways had been for self preservation. After all, trusting only led to trouble. Her father had proved that and the string of bums that Jinx had scraped off of the bar floors added more proof. To push people away was to keep herself alive for one more minute, one more day, one more year so that she could protect the ones that needed it. And she had only done it to bad people! Bad people needed to be pushed, shoved, and blown away…

But as she grew up, the Pushing Away became all too easy to do to the good people. The bitterness, the jaded bitchiness had escaped from its little Pandora's Box and it had shaped her into the person she was now: A 37 year old kickass US Marshal but piss poor everywhere else. She had a house (a fixed house, now) but her family pitied or hated her (it depended on the day), she had no husband, no kids, and only one friend in the World.

And he may very well be gone any second now. She didn't want that. If Marshall was gone, then she would have no one to turn to. She wouldn't have someone that supported her wholeheartedly. She wouldn't have someone who would lay their life on the ground for her and she would lose the one person, the one _**someone **_that she could be with…

With a barely suppressed sob, she turned and bolted back to where she came from, determined to call him, email him, smoke signal him, to actually apologize and to try to make things right. It couldn't fucking end like this! It just _**couldn't!**_ Not this time and not with this man! She couldn't push Marshall Jeremiah Mann out of her life! She had to…

"…**want to**_** thank you, **_**Marshall. After all, if you hadn't been so much a coward, I wouldn't be all over your precious partner, right now.**_**"**_

Her room was on the second floor but obviously Faber had decided to take his call to the balcony, where anyone (who spoke a lick of English) could hear.

"**I know you're still on the line. I can hear how loudly you're breathing. What? Are you jacking off to the image of Kitten bent over the chair or in the shower…I'd pick the shower, actually. She's got a wicked mouth, much better than the missus back home..."** he taunted with an oily laugh.

Her adrenaline tripled as she realized just what Faber was saying and who he was saying it to. She had to get up there, she had to get to that fucking phone fast. The elevator would take too long and the stairs…

Seeing a fire escape nearby, she quietly climbed it, listening with a roiling stomach as Faber went into raunchy explicit detail about her body and what she let him do to it...and where. Hearing the words made her feel as if she were covered in never removable stinking mud, like she was the biggest, dirtiest, ugliest slut to come from the loins of Mother Nature and Mother Mary combined…

"**I'll be sure to send her back to you intact but I'm sure that I'll be around much more often. Kitten can't get enough of me and I know a sure thing when I see it...well, I see that it's around 2AM up there so I'm gonna let you go. Some sleep would be good for you. Me? I plan on not sleeping for a long**_**…long **_**time**_**. **_**Good night, Marshal Marshall Mann and I'll be sure to kiss that lovely partner of yours for you."**

The look of sheer horror on his face as she jumped onto the balcony was almost comical but all she saw was scarlet. **_Fucker..._**

The crunch and crack of bone as her fist connected with his nose was more valuable than gold. Only one thought went through her head as she continued beating the bastard, yelling at him and shoving him towards the door, throwing every heavy or sharp object in reach at him…

_I'm so fucking sorry, Marshall… you were right as usual and…and I love you so much…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:Goddamned fucking tech glitches! I've had this chapter done since 7:30PM and now I have to post it at 3:54 in the damn morning! Well, I finally got through...  
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**This may be a "twice a week" week because I'm about to have a hell of a lot of spare time. My school's prom is this week and the day after that is our Senior Ditch Day (which the Powers That Be refuse to acknowledge exists…) so my teachers aren't gonna assign shit unless they're truly evil. Less homework = more time for sleeping and writing. Ripple effects are awesome.**

**PS: All Spanish is courtesy of Google Translate and my brain. Round 1 of **_**Mary v. Marshall **_**will truly start next update. I want to get back into Marshall's head before I make him lose it.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"_**Un **__**trago de tequila**__**, por favor. **__**Recta**_." ("A shot of tequila, please. Straight.)

The tired bartender looked at him askance and Marshall couldn't really blame him. After landing in Cancun, he had gotten cleaned up in the airport bathroom. He had traded his pajama pants for jeans and his shirt for a black wife beater. Feeling no inclination to even try to tame his hair (a reflection of his attitude), he had left it in its windswept disarray and tied an American flag bandanna over it. He had put on fingerless black gloves, black sneakers and had topped everything with a green military jacket. His scruff had become a day old beard and the dark circles underneath his still cold eyes looked as if they were bruises.

If he were the old man, he'd say that he was looking at a criminal or an addict.

"_**¿No **__**es **__**un **__**poco **__**pronto **__**para eso**__**, **__**hombre**__**?**_" ("Isn't it a little early for that, man?")

Marshall chuckled and saw that it was only 9AM. Conceding the point with a tilt of his head, he replied, "_**Así**__** es. **__**Pero **__**he **__**de negocios **__**para**__** atender**__**, **__**negocio que **__**requiere**__** fortaleza**__**.**_" ("It is. But I have business to take care of, business that requires fortitude.")

Now, the man's hackles were raised and Marshall could see him slowly going for a Bowie knife hidden underneath a stack of old magazines. It was unfortunate how circumstances forced this genial man to take on such tactics. But, it was understandable. Cancun and other tourist spots were Narc hot-spots and this man probably had to use that knife more than once. But, he had nothing to fear from him.

After all, even in his anger, Marshall had no intention of doing any physical harm to anyone. He was still a Man of Honor (insert last name pun here) and although Mary was deserving of every ounce of vitriol boiling in his gut, he was not going to put his hands on her.

_At least not like that…_, his heart whispered darkly, causing a mental nod of agreement.

".. _**No **__**ha**__** venido**__** a México para **__**causar**__** más**__** problemas **__**de drogas**__**, **__**¿verdad?**_" ("You have not come to Mexico to cause more drug trouble, have you?")

Reaching into his front pocket slowly, Marshall placed his badge on the counter, sliding it to the man for inspection. After a minute the man softened visibly and finally went to get his drink.

"_**No Señor**_._** Nada de **__**eso.**__** Estoy**__** aquí**__** desde Albuquerque a **__**un ajuste de cuentas**__** mucho tiempo**__** con una**__** mujer**__**, **_**mi**_** mujer**__**.**__"_, he clarified, finally letting his pain filter into his detached tone.("No, sir. Nothing like that. I am here from Albuquerque to settle a long time score with a woman, _**my**_ woman.")

A knowing look went through the man's eyes (his name tag read Gabriel, a source of _**bitter**_ irony) and he set down two glasses to be poured.

"_**Ella **__**ha **__**sido**__** infiel**__**.**_" ("She has been unfaithful to you.")

Marshall sighed heavily and pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger.

"_**Muy**__**.**_ _**Muchas veces**__**.**_ _**Y**__** acepto **__**mi **__**papel**__** en **__**sus**__** decisiones, pero **__**eso no **__**significa**__** que**__** voy a **__**tolerar**__** más**__**.**_" ("Very. Many times. And I accept my role in her decisions but that does not mean that I will tolerate them anymore.")

Marshall had no patience for self delusions. He knew damn well that he wasn't blameless in this fucked up situation. He had become Mary's support system, her go-to friend to lean on and vent to. He had enjoyed that role and still did but he had expected her to pick up on his cues. He had expected her to break her pattern for self delusion and destruction and realize that he loved her and that she felt the same. **He had expected to not have to **_**tell**_** her.**

_**That**_ was where he had gone wrong. Although Mary was different in many ways from women, she still needed to hear the outright words when the cards were on the table. His speech to her, while it had been sledgehammer to the balls obvious, had lacked those three little words and he was absolutely certain that it had made her flight easier. Apparently, she didn't think he loved her enough or at all or that she was unworthy of him, thoughts that were very untrue…

After he made known his displeasure at her latest Mary Shannon shit storm, he would make sure to tell her (and show her) just how he felt, whether she liked it or not…

"**¿Más? **_**¿Cuánto hace que **__**usted y**__** su**__** mujer**__** están juntos**__**?**_" ("_**Anymore?**_ How long have you and your woman been together?")

"_**Será**__** de ocho años**__** en septiembre próximo.**_" (It will be eight years next September.")

Gabriel sighed and pounded back his shot before slapping him on the shoulder, sliding his badge back to him as he headed towards a back office.

"... _**En **__**la**__** casa**__**, **__**mi**__** amigo**__**. **__**Buena **__**suerte**__**.**_" (…On the house, my friend. Good luck.)

"_**Gracias."**_, Marshall replied before sending the flaming venom straight down his gullet.

Once it kicked in, he would take the list of resorts he had looked up on the plane and get started on his hunt.

He would find his wayward lioness, first.

Faber could wait until afterwords.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Good morning, everyone. Variety truly is the Spice of Life. This Sunday (I've made Sunday my IPS updating day, apparently), I'm gonna go with the angst first and then the fluff after the show. I've had ideas brewing in my head for the Confrontation all week since I upped Marshall's sexiness (the man speaking Spanish just appeals to my primal nature) and I think I've got it. This chapter is gonna be a little longer and much more intense and I hope that it'll be worth the wait. This fic will truly earn its rating next update.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

Her cell phone rang and she opened her eyes to find herself asleep in her underwear on the bathroom floor, clutching the stuffed plush burro that she had impulsively picked up at the airport. The scent of vomit rose up from the bathtub so she figured that was where her sundress (not the red one) had ended up. Her hair was oily and tangled, hanging dully in her bloodshot celery orbs.

Her knuckles throbbed and burned like fire and her throat was sore, a result of the fierce smack down she had put on Faber. Damn it had felt so good to do that, like a step in the right direction but the guilt still ate at her like piranhas. After Faber had run out the door and the hotel, she had bolted back to the room and promptly threw up every bit of sustenance (mainly margarita based) while bawling. God, she was such a…

_**Get moving, Missy. Pity time's over. I'm not pissed at you, anymore but Marshall **_**is**_** and if he's on that line, you need to start your whole "make it right, for the love of Christ" kick ASAP. And if it's **_**not**_** Marshall, it's probably someone that could help you find him…**_, her inner voice cut in, stopping the morose thoughts.

Standing wasn't an option, right now. Her head was too cloudy from the hangover and the crying. Easing herself onto her hands and knees, she crawled out of the bathroom and found her trilling phone underneath the now dented champagne bucket.

"This is Mary."

"_Oh, Thank God! Are you okay?"_ Stan's sharply worried voice sounded through the line, giving her the energy needed to sit up.

"No…I'm hungover, stinking like a trucker and feeling more guilt than a Catholic priest performing in _**Rocky Horror**_. Stan, what's going on?"

"**Marshall**_ is what's going on, Inspector. He heard about your little adventure with Faber and is pissed to high heaven. He said that he was going after you and if I tried to stop him, then his resignation would be in the form of a bullet to my ass. Mary, I normally try to stay out whatever push-pull, Ross and Rachel on crack bullshit thing you two have going on but this time, you've taken it too far. Marshall's determined to find you and I can't guarantee that he won't get violent once he does."_

A ragged sobbing sigh escaped her and she replied, "I wouldn't be surprised if he did. It's been kinda overdue, hasn't it?"

"_Mary…"_

"No! Don't try and sugarcoat it, Stan! I've been a Grade-A bitch to him for forever and he's put up with it for _**seven years**_! Seven long years where he's had to sit there and watch me fuck and get engaged to a string of jackasses and run roughshod over his feelings every day… i-if he wants to get medieval on my ass, he can! And if he wants to leave, well, t-that's okay, too! He should be nominated for sainthood for not doing it earlier!"

"_He's not going anywhere, Mary. He loves you…"_

"_**What the fuck for?**_ I haven't done anything remotely worthy of his damned love!"

"_You've done a lot more good than you think. The head honchos sent Marshall to me as a last chance bit. See, he was an excellent Marshal but piss poor when it came to dealing with people…"_

"Bullshit."

"_Let me finish! Anyway, he could talk to them fine but there was always a disconnect, an unnaturalness that unnerved people. You coming along forced him to join the masses and relax..."_

"And get his fucking heart broken until he snapped. I humanized the machine and then treated him like he was my pussy whipped bitch without the pussy. And now, he's coming down here to take it out of my hide. _**Lovely.**_ Well, thanks for calling, Stan. I need to rinse the puke off of me and wait for him. He wasn't lying when he said he was coming after me. He's here, I can feel it.", Mary cut off with mock cheer before throwing the phone across the room.

She really could. Feel him, that is. It had been what triggered the need for the Senor Sombrero Burro, anyway. Looking around, she could see the shattered remains of glasses, the cushions of the couch on the floor, the splinters of wood that used to be a chair. She had hit Faber with that chair before running him out of the hotel and hopefully out of town. He had pulled his pants back on so she knew he had enough money on him to get to the embassy…or robbed by gang bangers. She desperately hoped for the latter.

_**/**_

Faber had finally passed out outside the embassy and had woken up in a hospital, wrapped in bandages and barely able to breathe. He reached for the nurse call button but was stopped by an iron grip on his wrist. Looking through heavy bandages on his face, he saw an unkempt and dangerous Mann glaring at him like he was a cockroach from the chair next to him. Before he could even blink, the barrel of his gun was pressed under his chin.

"Where's Mary, jackass? What hotel? What room?"

"_L-look, man. She put me in here, okay? I think we're even_." Faber chuckled with a mutated version of his charming smile…

The safety clicked off and the barrel ended up pressing into the back of his throat. Obsidian eyes, sharp with psychotic hatred, loomed over him and his voice was a growling hiss.

"We are _**far**_ from even, Faber. The only way that we'd be even is if I went up to Denver, fucked your wife stupid and sideways and then called you at unholy o'clock in the goddamned morning gloating…or if I just pulled the trigger right now. Then we'd be even steven, wouldn't we, Mike? We'd be about square."

He grunted and shook his head frantically, trying to dislodge the gun with little success. After a couple of minutes of terror, Marshall yanked it out and then calmly gripped his throat, slowly tightening his grip until his heart monitor began to beep erratically.

"_**Where is she?**_"

"_Hacienda de Sol. Room 219. __**Please**_…"

"Is she hurt? _**Did you hurt her, you son of a bitch?**_"

"_**N-no**__…crazy bitch put me in here… __**told **__you that, already…heard the c-call…crying…"_

"She was _**crying**_?"

"_**Yes**__…and s-she looked like she was gonna th-throw up…in love with you…"_

Faber watched as his eyes lost the madness for a split second but then gurgled as the grip tightened once more, his gun pressed against his temple, the barrel digging in until he bled.

"If you ever come near her again, if I ever have to deal with you outside of business matters again, I will blow your motherfucking head off, do you understand me? Mary is _**mine**_. She's _**mine!**_"

Against his will, he could feel warm drops of urine seep down his inner thigh at the declaration but Faber nodded in agreement, causing Mann to finally release him. He watched as he holstered his gun and pulled his jacket back on calmly.

"_H-how the hell did you get past security, anyway?"_

"Good old fashioned bribery. You're the son of a senator. You should know _**all **_about that. Oh, and I took the liberty of paying for your ticket home and I expect a call from you when you land, as well as full disclosure to not only your wife but to your _**4**_ children. Your injuries should have you out of here before Friday so…"

"_I'll leave my phone charged_." he sniped weakly.

The coldly amused wolf grin on his face turned the drops into a trickle as did his parting words.

"Good bitch.", he praised before slamming the door behind him.

_**/**_

"Senorita? This note was left for you at the front desk."

Mary looked at the nervous looking clerk (Isa, her name tag read) from the lobby and accepted the note, recognizing the near calligraphic scrawl of her partner immediately. With a resigned to her doom sigh, she unfolded it and a key card fell out to the now clean floor of her room…

**Room 409. We need to talk. –Marshall**

"Yeah, thanks." she replied as she absently passed a couple of bucks to the girl and walked towards the stairs. Getting to the third floor landing, she stopped at the full length mirror there. True to her words, she had showered but she hadn't bothered to do anything with her hair so it was still tangled. She had on baggy black sweats (_**his **_baggy sweats…) and a threadbare grey tank top. She didn't bother putting a bra on and her knuckles were thickly bandaged, dried blood staining the white fabric.

Her bare feet slapped on the tile as she walked down the hallway, 401…403…405…407…

Stopping outside the door, she contemplated using the key but quickly decided against it. This was his rodeo now, not hers. Giving up control was something she didn't do well but she'd try for Marshall. She _**had**_ to…

She had barely knocked once before the door opened slowly, the room lit only by the setting sun. Most of that light was blocked by Marshall, who was looking at her with unreadable eyes. He looked like he had crawled out of a gutter someplace but she couldn't help but take in his shirtless form. His skin was pale and dusted with freckles, his body mostly smooth until the area beneath his bellybutton. He was also ripped, like seriously ripped. He wasn't bulky but…damn.

Moving her eyes back up as he shut the door behind them, she took in the stubble on his face and…was that an American flag bandanna he was taking off? Jesus, his hair was uncombed and he smelled like he had spent the night in the bottom of a bottle of Cuervo…what the hell? Had she really reduced him to this? The silence stretched on for a while but then he spoke, his back to her.

"I saw Faber in the hospital. You really worked him over."

"He deserved it."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he deserve it?"

"Because of that goddamned phone call he made to you! I heard him and…"

He turned to her and the words died in her throat as his face became even blanker, his eyes going colder.

"So, if he_** hadn't**_ called me, you wouldn't have done it. I figured. After all, you wanted a cowboy to ride and you certainly weren't gonna let a pesky thing called…hmm, I don't know…a man so fucking obviously in love with you, stop you, huh?"

Her own ire rose at his judgmental tone and she snapped, "Oh, like you've been living like a goddamned monk this whole time?"

"Actually I _**have**_. I haven't had sex in 7 years, 8 months, 3 weeks and 5 days. Funny that when you count back that it's the day before I met you. The day before I met you and you wormed your way into my goddamned heart like a worm does to an apple."

A shot of pleasure went through her at his confession but it was quickly tamped down by anger.

"You have a fuckin' hilarious way of showing how you feel, then, Cowboy! If you were so goddamned in love with me, then why didn't you say something?"

"Because you would _**run!**_ I knew that the second I said something that you'd run off screaming into the night because of all your _**issues!**_ I figured that it was best to stay silent because I'd at least have your friendship but a fat lot of good it's done me, given the fact that I just had to hunt you down like a dog! Point of clarification:** Not every man is like your rat bastard father or the other pricks that your drunken slut of a mother brought around, Mary! **_**I'm not like that!**_"

"I fuckin' _**know **_that, Marshall!", she retorted with a stomp of her foot.

His hands gripped her arms with enough force to bruise as he slammed her against the nearest wall, startling them both.

"Then, why the fuck do you treat me like it? _**Huh?**_! Why the hell do you push me away when you know that I would rather shoot my damn balls off then hurt you? Why the fucking hell did I have to watch you bang Epps and Raph and every other jackass that comes your way? Hell, I'm surprised you didn't suck O'Connor off to get him away from your family!"

The slap she landed on his face sounded like a gunshot and a trickle of blood ran from his nose, causing more tears to run down her face as he stepped away from her.

"You're a fucking bastard!"

"And you're a fucking bitch! And _**I'm**_ a fucking idiot because despite all the shit you've managed to kick up, _**I still love you**_! I'm always gonna love you, whether I or you like it or not and now, you have a decision to make Mary. I'm done hiding how I feel and I'm done watching you walk around with your head in the sand."

"What the hell are you saying? That I need to love you or you'll leave?"

_**/**_

Her voice was cracking and she was still against the wall he had slammed her against. When he didn't reply immediately, she began to shake, horror filling her eyes.

"_You'll leave. You really will. You'll go off and find a new job, a new partner, and a woman who will give you what you want…what you need_."

The mass in his throat was too much for his voice to handle so he merely nodded. She shook her head and then looked at him with confused despair.

"_You just said that you loved me. T-that you'd rather shoot your balls off then hurt me._ Do you _**really**_ think that your leaving wouldn't hurt me? That I don't _**need**_ you?"

"Yes!" he replied bluntly.

It was like he had punched through the last of her shields because she sobbed once, twice, and broke down into a sobbing heap. The rage that had kept him going finally drained away and he could feel his own tears falling as he sank to his knees in front of her, pulling her unresisting form into his exhausted arms.

"I _**do **_need you! You're the only thing in my life that makes sense! You can't leave me! I…you…you can't leave me…you just _**can't**_!"

Her limbs wrapped around him possessively and her nails dug into his shoulders, making any move he made to get away virtually impossible. Marshall drew her head onto his shoulder and her face was hidden by her hair. Before he could move it away, he found himself shoved onto his back, looking up into her desperate eyes as she straddled him.

"Mary…"

"I _**do **_need you."

She pulled off her tank top.

"Mary…"

"I need you."

Her bandaged fingers caressed his chest before pressing a hand to his racing heart, leaning forward until their lips were barely an inch apart.

"Mary…"

"I need you, Marshall. You always ask what I need. I need you. I need you to keep me sane. I need you to not leave. I…I need you to love me because…because…"

She sobbed as he hugged her tighter to him, running his hands up and down her back.

"Say it, Mary."

"_Iloveyou._", she whimpered quickly.

"What?"

He had heard her the first time but…

"I love you! I need you because I _**love**_ you!" she screamed.

…he needed confirmation so he could finally…

He stood them up, his bed only four steps away...her back hit the duvet with a thump...

…fully…

He cupped her breasts…**_oh, god, her perfect breasts_**…her back arched off of the mattress...

**_"Marshall…"_**

He cupped her face and traced a trembling thumb tip over her swollen lips as he pinned her with his hips...

**_"Mary."_**

…kiss her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Good IPS update morning, y'all. One drawback to Muse Monster Shots is that the plot that it nurtures leeches into everything around you, including day and night dreams and into sexy, completely inappropriate thoughts about long time male friends during Band Concerts. Simply put, I've been feeling like a live wire and I need to write this so that I may regain some semblance of sanity. This much needed naked part should last at least 2 chapters, maybe more.**

** PS: For those who asked, the Marshall that I spawned during **_**Unleashed **_**and its companion pieces (Green Eggs and Ham series) is all up in this story, both in violence and…well, just read.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

Even when Mary herself had been walking about with her head in the sand, her subconscious had not. If she were being completely honest with herself (something that she was going to have to do more often…), then Marshall Mann had done some apple worming himself all those years ago, especially when it came to sex.

At first, it had been a passing thing, a way to generate more ammo against the awkward, goody two shoes that had gotten her condemned to Albuquerque. After all, what would String Bean know about sex? He was probably a virgin, she had figured and if he wasn't, then he'd have to be impossibly bad in bed. Hell, he was such a skeleton that his boner would probably actually have a bone _**in**_ it…

But then one year passed, then two, then three…the thoughts of him had taken a turn for the fond and for the idle curiosity. What was he like when he let loose? He knew how in increments. Overly harsh slam the scumbags to the ground here, the innuendos he came up off the top of his head when they were feeling particularly playful there…

What was his favorite part of sex? His favorite positions? Was he a bedroom traditionalist with the lights off or was he a wild man, not giving a fuck about anything or anyone but the woman he had ensnared in his web? Would he be gentle, rough, playful, crazy? What did he sound and look like when he came? Did he have an 'O' face from hell or would he look hot? Would he moan? Would he groan? Would he scream?

Could she _**make him**_ scream?

Once _**that **_question had risen up, her subconscious had gone into overdrive. The curiosity about Marshall and sex had never left but then it had just become curiosity. What was his earliest memory? His favorite foods, drinks, movies? What did he look like in high school? What was his family like? Why did he always look at her with softness, even when she was at her bitchiest? Why did he always insist on taking care of her, protecting her from people and herself? Why the hell did he care so much about her? And most importantly, why the hell did she care so much about him?

Now, she knew. She _**loved **_him. Him threatening…no, _**promising**_ to leave her and then the fact that he thought for a_** second**_ that she didn't need him was her breaking point. No more running away and no more pushing him away…

Their lips parted and she watched as a visible shiver went through him as her fingertips traced down his back, enjoying the slickness and the play of muscles there. Long fingers tipped her head back and he pressed tender, lingering kisses to her throat and clavicle, nuzzling against her. Their bare chests touched and now it was her turn to shiver. He was so warm and the sour tequila smell was being overpowered by his own unique scent.

Even when it was boiling hot out, Marshall always smelled good but she could never quite pinpoint what the scent was. It wasn't from any soap on the market or any of that man musk that they always slathered on. The smell was just him. It was earthy, musky, and just plain… sexy. Her partner was_** sexy**_. Her partner had been sexy all this time and she hadn't noticed it.

She was certainly noticing now, especially when he looked into her eyes. They were the deepest, darkest midnight blue black that she had ever seen. They were predatory and wanting and she could feel her panties soak through as he smiled at her, slow and easy.

"_Marshall…"_

His index finger went to her lips and she sucked on the tip instinctively, looking up at him with doe eyes. The heat coiling and raging under her skin grew as his eyes wandered down to her breasts, taking in every freckle, every drop of sweat, her diamond hard rose nipples…

_**/**_

She was glorious. Her taste, her touch, everything about her intoxicated him. Marshall's body howled at him to yank those sweats down and bury himself into this woman,_** his **_woman, until she begged him for mercy, until his racing heart exploded in his chest but he held off.

The wall holding back his desires for her had fallen. Even if the building was on fire, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from making love to this woman. Mary wanted him. Mary needed him and she had just screamed/sobbed at the top of her lungs that she loved him. Not making love to her would be equivalent of a deadly sin. But, now that he had her, he intended to keep her, to take every ounce of frustrated desire out on her hide.

Starting with her breasts. Moving his finger away, Marshall continued his string of open mouthed kisses on her neck, enjoying the gallop of her pulse. His hands skimmed the duvet and then settled on her sides, making her whimper softly as her hips rolled. Moving his hands, he cupped both of her orbs in his hands, looking at them. They were a creamy ivory, almost butter pecan from the tan she had picked up. The swells fit in his hands like puzzle pieces and her nipples reminded him of fresh raspberries, his favorite fruit. Spanning her back with his hands, he tasted her for the first time and his groan was answered by her breathless gasp.

"_...so fucking __**sweet…**_" he mumbled as he teased first one, then the other, then both at once…

"_Oh, Jesus, Marshall…suck me…please…want it…want __**you**__…"_ she gasped as she made to take his jeans off.

A sharp swat to her ass stopped her cold and he forced himself to get off of her, to stand and look at her. Her eyes were endearingly wide with surprise and it took all he had not to pounce on her. Damn, she was sexy…too sexy for his own good.

"You'll have me, Mary. I promise. Take off your pants."

"Marshall…"

"_**Now.**_"

A blend of defiance and arousal flashed through her eyes as she took off her sweats, revealing utterly soaked lime green and pink panties. A laugh rumbled in his chest and it was cut off by the sodden scrap of cotton hitting him dead in the face. Removing them, he saw Mary on her knees, grinning impishly at him. A wolfish grin lit up his face and she slid to the edge of the bed, grabbing him by the belt loops.

"Don't laugh at my girly undies." she scolded with a poke to his bellybutton.

Marshall brushed her tangled hair out of her eyes and rejoined her on the bed, marveling at how beautiful she was. His fevered, analytical mind hadn't done her justice. His lips found the toned muscles of her abdomen and he spent a long while there, kissing and learning. A hitched gasp escaped her as he kissed the bullet scar lovingly and he rested his cheek against it, closing his eyes loosely.

"I should've been with you."

"Then, you would've gotten hurt too. And besides, you risked getting beaten to death by gang bangers to get the Intel to find the son of a bitch who did it anyway."

"You could've died."

She tugged his head up and pressed a tender, butterfly kiss to his lips.

"I _**didn't**_. Maybe it was dumb luck or maybe it was the universe's way of buying us time for all of _**this**_, I don't know… What I _**do**_ know is that I'm naked and horny and I expect you to do something about it."

"Oh, _**really**_?" he chuckled.

"Yes, _**really**_. Get on with it, Cowboy…or at least ditch the pants so I can grope you."

_**/**_

Her teeth sank into her bandages to muffle her shriek of pleasure as his mouth touched her for the first time. Propping herself on one arm, Mary watched as Marshall slowly licked his lips and that shiver went through him again. He liked what he tasted…a lot.

Powerful arms locked around her hips and his face disappeared as he settled in, growling under his breath as she stained his lips, his chin. Mary removed her hand and kept her eyes on him, delighted by his unprompted attentions. Typically, she had to force the issue, literally twisting an arm to get a guy to pay some attention to her, to realize that just sliding home did not make good sex. It required…

"_**Fuck!"**_

It required everything that Marshall was doing. He was taking things slow, almost tortuously slow, learning what she liked. His hot tongue lapped gently at her throbbing clit and he plunged two fingers inside her, twisting and rubbing against all her spots. Mary whimpered as his lips closed around her clit, sucking it like she'd suck him…

"_**Marshall…"**_

"_Let it happen…let me taste you…**please**, Mary…come for me…come for me…"_

Her hips snapped up off the mattress and all the air in her lungs escaped her in a raw scream of his name, echoing off the walls and outside to the balcony. He grunted and held her down, replacing his fingers with his eager tongue, lapping her creams up like a cat with milk. Mary panted and yelped, her toes curled and fingers holding onto his shoulders hard enough to bruise. After a minute, her body calmed and Marshall rested his head on her quivering stomach, panting raggedly for air between shaky kisses to her skin.

After it became apparent that he wasn't going to be moving on his own quickly, Mary took him by the shoulders and neatly (but gently) flipped him onto his back. His eyes were much softer, near normal but the sharpness from earlier was still there just in a different form. A familiar form. Good. Lustful Marshall was much better than Angry Marshall, especially when it came to her.

Keeping her eyes on his, she unsnapped his jeans and lowered the zipper. The denim was easily removed and her mouth went bone dry as she took him in. He had on no underwear and he was…god, he was _**huge**_! Jesus Christ, was he gonna fit inside her? Reaching, she could barely wrap a hand around him and he was long, at least 9 inches of pure male. A hint of masculine pride was in his latest smile and he sat up slowly, helping her straddle him.

"We'll fit, Mary…we already do.", he soothed while massaging her wiggling hips.

"Yeah, we do. Just…take it easy with that thing, okay? _**Damn**_… forget Doofus, your new nickname is Stallion…" she declared with a cat in the cream smile.

The humble pink flush staining his cheeks tipped her over the edge, making her aching hips move over and onto him with no hesitation. Cupping the back of his neck, she pulled him into a long kiss, twining her tongue with his, and his hands pulled her onto him fully, making them both groan in pleasure. Mary felt him moving to flip them and she let him, putting her on her back, her legs spread wide and wanting for him. Grabbing her by the ankles, Marshall locked her legs around his waist and she arched into each slow, deep thrust inside her.

Their lips parted but stayed close, their breathing merging and mingling. Mary felt her eyes cross as he swiveled his hips and she did the same to him, going in the opposite direction. The low fierce growl rumbled in his chest and he bit down on her lower lip, tugging on it firmly. Rising to his challenge, she dug her nails into his back and then slowly, cruelly dragged them down his back, opening ten thin lines down to the small of his back.

"_**Mary!"**_

She cried out as he started slamming in and out of her, his restraint snapped. She could feel each impact in her whole body, almost to the back of her throat. Her head was tilted into the pillow and she screamed as Marshall sank his teeth deep into her neck, branding her as his. Incensed at (and aroused by) his rough move, she bit him right back, drawing blood out of his shoulder and making him hiss in delight.

"_**Deeper**__…mark me…__**I'm yours**__…"_

Mary shivered and obeyed him, leaving more marks on his torso and on the nape of his neck. Her thighs began to burn from pained pleasure and she ground her clit against his pubic bone, trying to bring herself off.

Marshall was having none of that.

Rough, possessive fingers plunged down to where they were joined and tugged on her throbbing nub, shattering her. Scream after scream left her inflamed throat and dimly, she registered a long shout of bliss as well as a flood of hot cream filling her to the brim. Her feet planted firmly on the mattress, Mary moaned blissfully with him and moved into his heavy thrusts, taking everything he had to give her…


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: My IPS Rage is back with a vengeance and my monthly curse came two days early so now I'm pissed, sore, and craving all things sweet. Good thing I still have plenty of Grad Party Cake left. This chapter is more about grown up conversation than nakedness but the nakedness will return in earnest next update.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

She couldn't believe how much of his skin was there for the touching, how he was just covered by the flat sheet and nothing else. After all, Marshall always kept covered up, even when he was at home. She mocked him for it before, calling him a prude, but now, Mary understood why. Leaving things to mystery made the discovery all the better. Turning onto her side, she watched as he slept the sleep of the dead, sprawled out on his side. Long eyelashes fanned out from his loosely shut lids and his lips were a swollen bee stung red from all of the kissing they had done.

An angry scarlet bite mark stood out against the creamy skin of his throat and his biceps, side, and back were marred from her nails. It would take weeks for all of them to heal but the ecstasy outweighed the agony to him. Mary wasn't unscathed. The bite mark on her neck throbbed and her lower half was deliciously sore and stretched out from his attentions. Her breasts were heavy and her nipples raw from his scruff. Her body still thrummed with shivers and when she shifted just right, an aftershock rippled her walls and made her moan softly.

Marshall had given her the best sex of her life. No, not sex. It wasn't just sex. Not like the others. She hadn't loved them. She hadn't been so honest and raw with the others, not even Raph, not even her sleaze ex-husband…

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her look back at his face and owlish baby blues stared guilelessly at her. She had made a makeshift nightgown out of the comforter and with trembling fingers, he pulled her wrist to his mouth, pressing tender, open mouthed kisses to it.

"Hey.", she rasped lamely.

Marshall gave her a sleepy half smile and asked, "What time is it?"

"No clue. Probably close to midnight. We've been asleep for a while."

"Sleep deprivation and earth shattering sex will do that to people. Mare…we still need to talk."

"I know. Just because my head's out of my ass now doesn't mean I don't have to do damage control. I've been a slutty bitch to you for too damn long. I'll make it better, Marshall. I swear to God…" she promised as she actually hugged him, putting him on his back.

"You're _**not **_a slut." he scolded flatly.

"I'm a bitch. You said that yourself." she pointed out, making him look away from her shamefully.

"I was angry. I said some things…"

"…that needed to get said. Shit's never gonna change if you don't make it and sometimes you have to be a bastard to make it happen. I get it. Look, I can't promise that I won't hurt you anymore but I _**can **_promise that I won't pull a move like this again. You deserve better than that and honestly? You deserve a hell of a lot better than me. Marshall… why _**me?**_ Of all the normal, un-fucked up women you could've had, why'd you pick me? I don't get it."

"I don't either. All I know is that I love you and I don't want anyone else. Besides, I'm fucked up too. Just in different ways, is all."

True. Very true but...

"How do you keep it from messing up your life?"

"There's no solid way. I just remind myself that I don't have to be miserable and just because I'm fucked up now doesn't mean I will be forever. Change happens and 9 times out of 10, it sucks but there's that one time…"

"Like this…" Mary supplied with a gesture to their entangled bodies.

"…that's damn good. Like this." he agreed before kissing her tenderly.

She responded wholeheartedly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Current CMW2 Events: I got a 200 dollar Spanish scholarship, the English department award (shocker…I **_**was**_**! Seriously! I didn't expect to do anything but sit there with my pretty white rose and play with the band), and some Presidential thing at the Senior Awards thing on Friday.**

**My Graduation Party last Saturday went off without a hitch and I have a sliver of financial independence. How long that's gonna last is anyone's guess.**

**My graduation ceremony's on Thursday and it better not rain because I only have 5 tickets (which doesn't even cover my immediate family) and if it rains, I'm getting my ass kicked by about 25 people who are foaming at the mouth to see me graduate. **

**Now, for the stuff you really care about: WHAT THE HELL, IPS WRITERS? WHAT THE LIVING HELL? Mark's an obnoxious jackass (that I wanted to swing Brandi around by the hair for helping him find Mary…they divorced for a reason, honey…Just. Saying.) and I wanted to smack the hell out of Mary for letting him touch her (especially when everybody knows how **_**that's**_** gonna turn out) and this whole Marshall/Abigail thing's getting out of hand. If I have to sit through a frou-frou wedding with a side of melodramatic regret (or a dramatic birth) from Mary during the Season Finale (which I'm pretty sure is gonna happen), I'ma whup somebody's ass. At least the case files haven't jumped the shark…yet. Damn…well, at least I can make M&M parents in **_**Entangled. **_** That'll make me feel better. **

**PS: Marshall's a dirty little liar. He was looking at Mary during that "Security Check" and he was quite pleased at what he saw, Abigail be damned. And is it my imagination or did Mary sound disappointed when he claimed he looked away? Hmm…**

**PS in the Aftermath of Tonight's Episode: A) I would be delighted to handle every part of Marshall: geeky, hillbilly nightshirt/dress be damned, B) I **_**loved**_** how he knew she was pregnant before she did, and C) The promo for next episode's got me on the edge of my seat. I sense an M&M battle brewing in the Force and maybe, just maybe, it can turn out as well as the one in this fic. Hope springs eternal…**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

His cell phone rang and when he made to reach for it, he was stopped by a warm weight on his chest. Opening his eyes, Marshall saw a deeply asleep Mary and he couldn't help but marvel at her. Less than 48 hours ago, he had given up all hope of being with her and now, she was naked in his arms. She was naked in his arms and she had actually said that she loved him. Of all the possible scenarios he had come up with on the flight here, this hadn't even been on the list. Oh, he had expected yelling and he was determined to get her into bed but…wow.

The ringing stopped and promptly restarted, making her whimper softly and he pressed a deep kiss to her lips as she woke up.

"..'S going on?"

"My phone."

She blinked slowly and then reached for it, putting it in his hand before burying her face in his still stinging neck.

"This is Marshall."

"_Did you find her?"_

"I did. Stan, I want to apologize for the way I left. I was…"

"_You don't have to explain yourself, Marshall. And you don't have to apologize either. Did you two work out whatever you needed to?"_

"Yep.", Mary supplied with a leering grin, making him bite back a laugh.

"I'm pretty sure we did, Stan." he replied diplomatically. "Do you want to talk to her? She's right here."

"_Yeah, put her on. I want to make sure I don't have to interview anyone…"_

Marshall rolled his eyes and passed her the phone, watching appreciatively as she sat up. Unconsciously, she moved her hair to her left shoulder, revealing the mark he had left on her throat. The tip of her pink tongue went across her lips and he felt a stirring in his groin at the thought at what that tongue had recently done to him. She groaned out a laugh at something he said and he couldn't resist touching her for another second.

Coming up behind her, he put her back against his chest and lightly sank his teeth into the nape of her neck. She startled but relaxed against him, trying and failing to disguise her growing pleasure, pleasure he was giving her…

"Stan, I gotta go… yeah…do you _**really**_ want the answer to that? I don't want you having nightmares…exactly…yeah, I...I'm… _**shit!**_ Bye! _**Jackass!**_" she scolded him, making him laugh darkly against her back.

"What did I do?" Marshall asked innocently.

"I'm on the phone _**with our boss**_ and you're..."

The rest of her sentence was lost in a loud moan as he slid two fingers into her and he hissed as she immediately tightened up around them. Mary was delightfully responsive, hot and soft on his fingertips. She moaned again as he used his other hand to pay homage to her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers.

"_Oh Christ, Marshall_…"

"_Shh_…_just let me do this for you, Mary…let me make you feel good_..."

Her hips rolled and rocked with his fingers, helping him establish the rhythm she wanted. It was surprisingly slow but very deep, making him brush against all of her intimate places, places that he now knew very well. Her head dropped forward and her nails dug into his thighs as he roughened his strokes, his pinches. Looking across the room, Marshall bit back a growl at the sight of her in the full length mirror. She was an absolute knockout, putting all other women to shame. She reminded him of the Pagan Warrior Goddesses he had read about in his hours in the library. Athena, the Morrigan, Sekhmet…

Her moans took on a sharper, huskier edge and he met her fevered, pleading jade orbs in the glass. Relishing the (all too brief) power he had over her, he finally brought his thumb into her humid heat and with a perfectly timed caress…

"_**Marshall!"**_

_**/**_

She had thought that she knew all the types of orgasms: soft, hard, angry, faked…

The way that Marshall touched her, the way that she felt in his arms…it was a whole different animal. When he made her come, Mary could feel every part of her respond, not just her pulsing, twisting core. She felt bound to him, connected in the most intense and permanent ways. As she writhed and screamed for him, their eyes remained locked in the mirror and she was stripped bare.

Her shield of anger and caustic, cynical indifference had been replaced by softness, by tenderness, by…by _**love.**_ Eyes really were the windows to the soul and the truth and he could see it all.

Suddenly, she was turned around and Marshall kissed her fiercely, moving them backwards. Her knees bent and spread as he settled between her legs, his tongue hot and plundering. Mary matched him and her nails returned to his arms as he re-entered her. There were no barriers between them. They weren't needed. Both of them were clean and even if she didn't have her implant, Mary trusted him utterly to take care of her…and their child….their _**children**_…

_**You want **_**his**_** babies, Mary. All this time, you've said that you would never bring children into such a fucked up world, that you'd be a terrible mother with some sleazy bastard as the father but you were wrong. Marshall proved you wrong once again…**_

Two tears slid out of her eyes at the thought and he broke the kiss to wipe them away, to look at her with silent concern, concern that she was so familiar with…

"_**Tell me what you need…"**_Every time he said that, his baby blues blazed with tenderness, with devotion, with a desire to help her and support simply because he…

"I love you." she rasped.

She would do her utmost to erase the flash of doubt in his eyes at those words from her mouth. As much as the doubt pissed her off (and hurt her) to see, she didn't blame him one little bit. After all, Mary had spent 7 years playing with his feelings, hurting and burning him but no more! Not anymore, damn it! Even if it killed her, she would make him fully believe that she loved him, that wasn't running away from him ever again. Where the hell was she gonna go, anyway? Who else would love her like he did? Who else would accept her like he did?

The doubt left as quickly as it came and he kissed her sweetly before replying, "I love you, too. Always."

She realized that and although she would never understand just what the hell he wanted with her, Mary would not only allow him to love her but would match his ardor, eventually surpassing it. She was determined to do so.

After all, in love or not, she was not one to be outdone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Abigail was not in last night's episode and I damn near turned a back flip in glee. I don't know where they're going with the whole rehash of the Long Lost Fugitive Daddy plot line but I hope it doesn't turn into another O'Connor-esque witch hunting clusterfuck. It wouldn't be good for the baby. What's best for the baby is that Mary keeps her head out of her denying ass and for her to keep her goddamned legs shut so Marshall will finally drop the Annoying Hick and get with her.**

**I mean, it's not like he's turned off by the thought of her being pregnant. I mean, "We're having a baby!" **_**We're!**_** And he didn't even put the kid in there! What, does she have to have a flashing neon sign blinking "The One" or is she just that damn stupid? I'm beginning to believe what I said to my big sister, that she'd rather fuck a _dog_ than get anywhere near the correct man for her…**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"My head's out of my ass and I love him. Everyone and their dead grandma knows that he loves me and we…well, we're giving it a shot. Do you need to separate us or not?"

Marshall couldn't really blame Stan for looking so shocked. Although her words held their usual sharp tactlessness, Mary's body language screamed vulnerability. Her head was slightly bowed and her celery eyes looked at Stan warily, like he was going to yell. Her right hand clutched her left arm and her blonde locks were hanging in her face like a shield. Without thinking, he reached over and brushed it back behind her ears, making her eyes move down to her knees.

"Well, the head honchos may put up a fuss but with your record and the fact that you two can only work well with each other, there shouldn't be a problem."

She nodded curtly and then left the office, leaving the two men alone in tense silence.

"Ummm…do I want to know what's wrong?"

Marshall sighed and replied, "Seven years of suppressed emotions and guilt. Unnecessary guilt but guilt all the same. She thinks that she has to make it up to me, that I think that she's going to do what she did to Raph and Epps and Faber to me."

"And _**do **_you think that?"

How could he _**not?**_ Her embracing her feelings while they were sequestered away was one thing but being in Albuquerque, with all their witnesses and friends was a whole different animal. Mary spooked easily when it came to men and if she got scared…

"_**I can't promise that I won't hurt you again…"**_

"I don't know what to think. She's never lied to me about anything major and she did say the words but…I don't know. We'll see."

"Right and while we're on the subject of seeing…look, you two were a train wreck that needed to happen but I don't need to see or hear you two doing…"

"Our tribute to the Nature Channel?" Marshall finished with a leering grin.

"Oh god, get out!"

_**/**_

"So, you and Marshall, huh? Oh, um, Brandi told me…and your mom."

"Yay!" Mary cheered sarcastically before slamming her head down on the kitchen counter with a bang.

Peter chuckled and gently slipped her arm underneath her head to cushion it.

"Contrary to popular belief, brain damage is _**not**_ fun. Better your arm than the counter."

She snorted and nodded in agreement and confirmation.

"How'd it happen?"

"I ran away to Cancun with an asshole, beat up the aforementioned asshole after he called Marshall gloating, and then Marshall came after me, threatening to blow the asshole's head off if he ever came near me again, and then we were fighting and one thing led to another and another and…then, _**this**_."

Sitting up, she wiped the concealer off to reveal a string of dark love bites on her neck, framing the triumphant love brand on her jugular. Peter let out an impressed whistle and she laughed. Of all the men (and boys masquerading as men) that Squish had brought home, she liked Peter the best. He was financially secure, he was just as fucked up as the rest of the Shannon clan, and he was delightfully bitter. Plus, he had already dealt with Squish and her Squish-ness without batting an eye. If she believed in soul mates, then Mary would easily say that Peter was Brandi's…

_**And that Marshall is ours. But, you already know that, don't you, Cowgirl?**_

"Nice. I haven't been around for more than a hot minute but I think Marshall is exactly the type of person you need. He's just as crazy as you are but in a milder way. He'll balance you out…and he might actually make you smile for once in a blue moon."

"Shut up!" Mary laughed while lightly socking him. "Go bug Squish!"

"Okay. Oh, and Mary?"

She met his gaze.

"You deserve to be happy and loved. You don't have to let your past dictate your future and…and you don't have to be strong all the time. Marshall…he's good for you. He'll…he'll do anything for you so…"

"Don't hurt him?" she guessed sadly.

"Don't hurt _**you**_." he corrected warmly before walking away.

_**/**_

Marshall felt his mattress shift and opened his eyes just in time to yelp as ice cold feet brushed against his legs.

"Shut it, Cowboy. They'll warm up in a minute. Scoot over." Mary grumbled as she burrowed into his chest.

Marshall chuckled and obeyed her, wrapping his arms around her contently as she kissed him hello.

"What're you doing here? I thought you wanted…"

"You said that you needed to do your laundry and stuff so I went to Squish and Peter's for a while. You know he's planning on marrying her? Mm-hm. He showed me the ring and everything. Even asked for my blessing."

"And your response?"

"I said yes. He's a good man and he's good for keeping Brandi's head out of her ass and me out of basements to cover for her."

His heart clenched at the reminder of that awful day and he pressed kisses to her wrists. He remembered them being scraped raw from the chain and the desperate way she had hugged him…

"Hey. None of that. I'm fine and I'm here. I don't plan on dying for a long time and when I do, I want to be mid ride with you when I'm 90." she declared with a manic grin, setting him off into deep mirth.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all. Again, no Abigail. I think TPTB are picking up on just how much everyone hates her and are planning her exit post haste. Here's hoping. I hate that we have to wait an extra week for a new episode but I'm sure it'll be worth it.**

**So, Marshall with the Indian kids - Kickass. He's gonna be a great father (hint, hint) and I loved how Mary hasn't told Mark about her "growth spurt" yet. Maybe that means we won't have to deal with him anymore. I **_**loved **_**the M&M moment when they went ham on Stan for being a straight up G back in the day and the whole thing with Peter was chock full of WIN and I'm looking forward to the fallout of Mary's lame but in character phone message. Although, the return of Jinx is a sore spot with me. Sober or not, I still hate her.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

Being with Marshall wasn't hard at all. She didn't have to justify her every move and he wasn't trying to force her into a more conventional role. She could be her loud, crazy, trigger happy self and he loved her for it. He still fussed over her and she still teased and mocked him but the fact that they were having se…_**making love**_ had caused a shift in her behavior. Their confrontation in 409, as nasty as it was, had been a needed wake up call.

She wanted (needed) Marshall to stay with her. Marshall wanted to stay with her but constantly hurting him was making his resolve falter. Solution: Soften towards him and the rest of humanity, no matter how scared she would be. And she was scared. Downright terrified. But, she couldn't help it! She had been the way she was since she was 9! Changing that would be a work in progress for years, if not the rest of her life and screwing up…

**_"..._**_**You'll go off and find a new job, a new partner, and a woman who will give you what you want…what you **_**need**_**…"**_

A hand went to her arm and she nearly fell off the couch.

"Sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

Marshall frowned slightly but nodded, telling her that she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to.

She wanted to.

"I don't want to fuck this up. Whatever the hell we call ourselves doing, I don't want to fuck it up.", she admitted brusquely, tracing the raised numbers on the remote slowly.

"What makes you think you'd fuck it up?"

She couldn't help but chuckle at how gentle he could make the word fuck sound…

"I do that with men. I push and bitch and be…me until they cheat on me, divorce me, or give up on me. I'm trying to be different with you, Marshall because you are way different than the guys I was with before and I actually love you but…it's hard and I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of hurting you again. Or getting hurt again. I meant what I said in Mexico. I do need you and you're the only thing in my life that makes absolute sense. If you leave…"

The words died in her throat and she felt more than a little disgust at how insecure she was acting and sounding. Unlike the others, Marshall had never lied to her or broken a promise to her ever. He said that he loved her, all of her, even when she was at her worst and that he had no intention of willingly leaving her. Why the hell couldn't she just accept it?

_**Because you're used to being screwed over. Because you don't think you're worthy of healthy, happy relationships which is completely **_**wrong**_**. You don't have to be miserable, Cowgirl. Really, you don't…**_

"Mary, please look at me."

She turned to him and he raised her head with gentle fingers, always gentle…

"**I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! —and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death…"**

"Well, at least it's Browning and not Shakespeare…English Lit was one of the few classes I stayed awake in, Doofus!"

He laughed and continued, "Good to know. Mary, I'm scared too. I finally have a shot with my unattainable girl and I don't want to lose her. I don't want you to feel as if you have to run or you have to hide your feelings from me…"

"I can't. I try and you sniff them out like a bloodhound." she pointed out with a sheepish shrug.

"…and you're not weak for feeling the way you do. You have walls, walls that have been there for a long time and they're letting me in and I actually want to be in. I love all of you, even the parts you think are ugly and you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, aren't you?"

"I'm happy, Marshall. Really happy and that usually means something bad's gonna happen. It's like an unwritten rule."

He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her deeply, tenderly. Mary responded fully and brought her nails to his scalp in the way he loved. They parted and she felt another section of wall open up and his entrance. Well, make yourself at home, Cowboy…

"There are exceptions to every rule." he rasped.

"And I really fucking hope you're it.", she replied before recapturing his lips.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all. So, they brought back the Bumpkin and Jinx, which pissed me off to no end. But, I enjoyed the forearm/t-shirt porn we got from our Cowboy, even if he was being all nerdy/sexy with the **_**WRONG WOMAN!**_** When the hell are they getting rid of her? I'm sick of her voice and I don't know why but I didn't trust that little smirk on her face in the PD. Maybe I've been enjoying too many Evil Country Bumpkin fics but I got a vibe off of her that made me worried…**

**The Twin Terrors were hilariously sad and the Bet was just…it was classic M&M, M&M that I've missed sorely! And you know, I've been where Marshall was with the whole hot dog thing. I got food poisoning from Chinese food one time and it took me like 2 years for me to eat it again. Mary with a dog…it could work. I'm more interested in the whole adoption plot line and if Mary will stick to her guns, though. Shit's finally about to get real for her... **

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**_"My wife and kids know and she's filed for divorce and full custody."_**

"Running a little behind, aren't you? I asked for a report two Fridays ago."

**_"Well, I was busy. I picked up a case. High profile money laundering out of DC…"_**

"You'd think they would've learned their lesson from last time. I _**do**_ hope there's not a witness involved…"

**_"Not on my end, Marshal Marshall Mann. Look, are you done with your little revenge? I've already lost enough because of this…"_**

"I know that pointing out that your losses are because of your own actions would be an exercise in futility but to answer your question, yes. What I said in the hospital still applies, though."

_**"Oh, don't worry. Kitten's **_**all**_** yours. She's not worth getting killed over."**_

With a disgusted shake of his head, Marshall hung up his desk phone and met her knowing gaze. She had demanded full disclosure on the way he had handled Faber and after she stopped laughing, she praised him for his malice. Faber having to go home and confess everything under threat of death from the one guy he never thought would be a threat had to have burned. It would never burn as much as the Phone Call but the need for retribution had been satisfied nicely.

"Mary…" he started. _**Why on Earth did you let that bastard touch you?**_

"Because I was a goddamned idiot." she replied bluntly.

He snorted ruefully and she shrugged sheepishly before heading for the coffee pot. Seeing that Stan was firmly ensconced in his office, Marshall followed after her and her spine straightened as he came up behind her. She went through the motions of brewing a new pot but he saw a light pink flush make its way up her neck. Encouraged by the sight, he shifted even closer and he was delighted to hear a hitch in her breathing as he let his lips linger over the nape of her neck.

"Now, look here, Hoss. We promised Stan that he wouldn't have to see us _**in flagrante de-naked**_ and if you don't back up…"

"The term is _**in flagrante delicto**_ and I'm just standing here!" he corrected laughingly.

"You are _**not **_just standing there, Marshall." she retorted while looking at him significantly.

His eyes roamed over her body and a smirk tugged at his lips as she shifted her hips a little, making him look at her knowingly. Looking down at her chest, he confirmed his suspicions and Mary pulled her jacket tighter to her.

"Cold?" he asked. She was anything but cold and they both knew it.

"Shut up."

He chuckled darkly and she lightly slugged his arm as she moved back to her desk, a smile of her own threatening to break through. Yeah, you turn me on, she was saying. I want you and I can't have you and you're making me nuts. Marshall blessed his long cultivated composure, otherwise he'd be fist pumping like a champ in triumph at this wonderful bit of information.

He gave Mary fever at all times, both in and out of the office.

**_Awesome._**

"You forgot your coffee!", he called cheerfully.

"Suck it, Venti!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Hey. So, the finale's tonight. I still need to finish the latest two episodes (I know that Marshall moved in with the Bumpkin and that Oscar is gone) and I honestly am not looking forward to tonight. Last summer's finale pissed me off and I have a sinking feeling that this one will be just as bad, if not worse. We'll see. I'll try to update **_**Entangled **_**later this week and I have an idea for an angsty oneshot with Mary's head firmly and permanently out of her ass. What happens tonight will determine whether it's going to be a happy ending or not. **

**On the subject of endings and finales, I think **_**Resolution **_**has served its purpose as to righting old wrongs. It's time to focus on the inevitable new ones so I'll be wrapping this fic up with an epilogue next update. I'd like to take the time to thank you all for reading, reviewing, and enjoying this latest scribble on the _IPS_ wall and I look forward to continuing in this fandom.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"You want _**me **_to be your Maid of Honor? Brandi, you know I'm not good at crap like this. I'm not girly and giggly and shiny and…"

"…and _**that's**_ why I want you to do it! What with mom and the girls from back in Jersey, I need someone realistic and you know me better than anyone! You'll keep it from turning into a clusterfuck!"

"Squish, your last name is Shannon! Anything involving formality is a **_guaranteed_** clusterfuck!" Mary quipped with raised brows, making them laugh.

"True...but you'll make sure that it's the good kind! Come on, Mary, _**please**_? I need my big sister with me and you can totally get Marshall in on this! I bet once you take him out of those god awful cowboy boots and put him in a tux, he'll make 007 look like Drew Carey!", Brandi wheedled.

"He already does and I _**like**_ his cowboy boots." Mary pointed out defensively while grabbing a bridal magazine off of the stack.

"Oh, you've got it so bad…"

She rolled her eyes and kept looking through the thick, glossy pages, noting that each "blushing bride" had the same smile. She kept flipping, shaking her head in disapproval as the dresses went from Little Bo Peep to Stripperella to Princess Di to…

Her eyes locked on Dress #35 and she cocked her head. It was floor length and silky looking, the spaghetti straps accented by lace doily-ish material attached. There was just enough cleavage to get the groom's attention but it was modestly sexy, classy even. Mary idly traced the tiny snowdrop embroidery that flowed down like a waterfall on the right side and she could easily see Squish rocking it.

More to the point, she could see _**herself**_ rocking it.

"Oh, that's perfect, Mare! See, you _**are**_ good at crap like this and I even have some shoes that'll match the embroidery!" Brandi practically squealed while bolting towards the bedroom she shared with Peter.

Mary barely heard her as her imagination locked on her potential wedding day. Unlike before, the images weren't a nightmarish horror of tulle, organ music, and chains. They weren't putting her in a huge cathedral full of people she didn't know and there was no "proper" groom (Mark, Raph…) holding a gun to the back of her head as she stammered through overly rehearsed vows. The ring wasn't a spiked collar from her finger to her neck, tightening slowly and trapping her…

There was Marshall. They were in a judge's chambers…no, a summer field with a judge under an arch of blue and yellow flowers. She could see Squish and Peter, Stan, Jinx, Seth Mann and a swarm of beaming Manns sitting in folding chairs. Her dress was white and a shorter, simpler version of #35, the hem and her hair blowing in a warm breeze. Her feet were bare and in the center of her bouquet of roses was her sig, unloaded for safety's sake. In her mind, Marshall grinned at the sight of the gun and shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing his own gun in a black leather shoulder holster, doubling her and their family over with laughter…

_Is __**this**__ what I want from him? I mean, we're together and intend on staying that way but do I want the ceremony, the piece of paper on file, the hyphenated name because I'm __**so**__ not dropping mine, no matter how crappy my legacy is…_

_**If you **_**didn't**_** want it, Cowgirl then you wouldn't already be running Inspector Mary Shannon-Mann through your head. Sounds good, doesn't it?**_, her inner voice pointed out warmly, poking her in the arm gently.

_Yeah. Yeah, it does._

"Squish, I gotta go! Call me later!", she hollered.

"Where are you…?"

The slam of the door cut her off.

_**/**_

"Marshall, have you ever thought of marrying me?", she questioned softly.

He almost slipped on the wet tile but he caught himself on the wall. Sticking his head out of the shower curtain, he saw Mary sitting on the sink. She had come home from Brandi's, lost in thought, the same pattern of thinking that led him to chasing her to Cancun. Instead of fear, there had been confusion, keeping him from leaping to horrible conclusions. She had come in about 5 minutes before, uncharacteristically silent and he had been about to ask if she was okay…

"Yes.", he replied honestly.

"Recently?"

The sound of the shower seemed to be distant and his heart started to race.

"Yes.", he confirmed.

She looked at him fixedly for about 30 seconds and then started nibbling on her lower lip.

"If I asked you to get hitched, would you say yes? I mean, we've only officially been dating for about 2 months but we've been together damn near 10 years and…well, when I was helping Squish with her wedding stuff…it made me think that…well, getting married to **_you_** wouldn't suck. I mean, it wouldn't be perfect. After all, you're still a fucking nerdy bastard sometimes and I'm still a fucking self-destructive bitch nearly all the time but…I…well, I…_**shit!**_"

Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out a simple gold band and put it in the palm of her now shaking hand, standing in front of him defiantly. Was she really about to…was he dreaming? _**Please don't let him be dreaming**_…

"I'm _**not**_ getting on one knee. That's not my style and we both know it but I _**am**_ asking you to marry me. I want you to be my husband until we die and more importantly, I want to be your wife until we die. I think I always have in the back of my head so…and...yeah. Will you marry me, Doofus?"

"Yes."

"_**Yes?**_"

"_**Hell**_ yes, Mare."

"Really?"

Chuckling, he slipped the band on his left ring finger, watching as relief and joy flooded her eyes.

"Really. Nothing would make me happier than to marry you, love.", he declared as a near manic grin split her face in two.

His head (and the shower curtain) made brutal contact with the wall as she pounced on him but he ignored the throbbing pain in favor of hugging his Mary…his fiancée close to his chest, kissing her hard and deep like he would for the rest of their lives…_**the rest of their lives**_…

They were getting married.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Hello, all. Well, I gotta admit that the finale wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I mean, there was still the expected dramatic, premature labor cliffhanger but there was hope. And I don't care how hateful it is, I cheered like a madwoman when Marshall protected Mary over the Bumpkin. The only way it could've been better was if she had gotten shot or broken up with him during that hallway scene.**

**I was sad (but not surprised) to see Brandi pull a runaway bride but I have hope for her and Peter as well as renewed hope Mary and Marshall. I mean, the first person she yelled for was him when all hell broke loose and Mark can't (and shouldn't) be able to compete with that. We'll see next season.**

**Well, here's the last chapter of **_**Resolution**_** and an update on **_**Entangled **_ ** will be soon. Thank you all for reading and they'll be more **_**IPS**_** fics from me soon.**

**~*CMW2*~**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"Are you nervous?"

"No."

"Seriously?"

"Why the hell should I be nervous? All this was my idea and I'm actually getting married to the right person this time."

"_**I'm**_ nervous."

"Why? It's not like _**you're**_ gonna be in the dress."

"Thank God."

Mary snorted and finished applying a minimal amount of makeup. It was more for Jinx and Squish than herself. The two of them had been all atwitter because she was getting married yet refused to become a "blushing bride". No etiquette classes, no frantic dieting, the trip to the bridal shop had only taken 20 minutes (due to an excess amount of online shopping), she didn't max her credit card out on frou-frou lingerie (he'd rip it off, anyway…) or a huge hen party, and today, she committed the ultimate wedding sins.

Not only was she letting Marshall see her before the ceremony, she was going to have them walk down the aisle _**together**_. Why not? Marshall had been right by her side for the longest time. Tradition couldn't dispute that and she refused to walk down the aisle without his hand on the small of her back. Or judging by the tremor of his hands, she would have to grab him by the forearm like usual…

"Cowboy, are you okay? You look like you're gonna hit the floor."

True to Brandi's words, he did look mighty fine in a simple black tux but his baby blues were wide and his skin was even pastier than normal. It was a good thing that he hadn't eaten anything yet or they'd have to pay to get his mom's really nice rug cleaned.

"I'm fine, Mare."

She just looked at him dubiously, putting her hands on her hips as he looked away guiltily.

"I'm not nervous about marrying you. I love you. I…I just don't want something jacked up to happen during the ceremony." he finally admitted.

"Well, since your mom put the fear of God into your dumbass brothers, Jinx finally put the bottle down, Peter's distracting Squish, and the threat assessments came back clean, I think we're gonna be okay. Besides, if somebody does try something…"

She moved her dress aside to show a silky blue garter belt and her old bowie knife from back in the day.

"…they'll be choking on their balls."

"I love you." Marshall sighed laughingly, finally relaxing and offering his arm.

Ignoring it, she stepped into his arms and hugged him, smiling as he kissed the slope of her shoulder. It was amazing. If someone told her the previous year that she'd be willingly walking down the aisle, Mary would've shot them and dumped them at a psych ward. And if someone had told her as she sat crying on a beach in Cancun that Marshall would not only forgive her idiocy but he would accept all of her, then she would've just shot them. Yet, here she was and here they were, ready to move forward and make their unholy alliance legal and permanent.

He raised her head and kissed her deeply, making her manicured toes curl even as she stood on the tips of them, trying to get as close as she could…

"Hey, everyone's ready to…oh, Jesus…"

"I _**told**_ you that you should've knocked, Stanley. When you two are done sucking on each other, we'll be on the field." Eleanor Prince informed them smartly, slamming the door in her wake.

"And to think I actually missed her.", Mary rasped, making him shake his head in amusement as they exited the back room.

"Not as much as Stan." Marshall leered.

"That's sick, Marshall." she groaned.

"But still true." he insisted as he slid the back deck doors open.

Looking out, she could see everyone standing and watching, camera lenses scattered throughout the crowd. Marshall descended the stairs first and then offered her his hand, just as he had done for years before. Tell me what you need…call me if you need me…I'm here for you, Mare…I love you…

With trembling fingers, she accepted it and two tears slid out of her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, much to the "Awww..."ing delight of the crowd…

"…_**There are exceptions to every rule."**_

"_**And I really fucking hope you're it."**_

And thankfully, he was.

**FIN.**


End file.
